When Sherlock Fell, We Wrote
by ristiki
Summary: Poetic responses to the fall, some just letters, some suicide notes.
1. Sherlock

**Surely Home**

At the grave he watches as the tears stream down their cheeks

He wants to tell them he is alive, but must remain deceased

He wants to break the silence

He wants to come back home,

but three years is what it will take

until then, he must be alone.

The tears he feels are now his own,

they fall into the mist

He knows that he is not physically dead,

but there is death in his heart and head.

He is not a hero and does not claim to be,

but he knows that heroes exist

and his is crying frightfully.

Ashes lying in a heap,

he feels the lies in his bones,

one more thought of 221b,

and he knows until the time comes...

he will never surely be home.


	2. John

**Watch Son**

Oh hero, you said you weren't one. I know all the lies that you have told so well,

but this one is the worst,

for you told it with a fear.

Please come home, it's been so long,

your body is surely gone.

Six feet under the ground, I wish you still to be strong.

I remember your flighty feet, running about the town,

but here without you I must raise,

your flighty-footed little boy.

She brought him to me crying,

rejecting her only son, said she could not see his familiar face

and raise him all alone.

I took him in to save him, and also save myself.

I am the father of your son, and to him I am nobody else.

I tell him all the stories, even though he does not understand.

He is young and happy to deflect my old and sad.

Please believe me when I say, I know you are not dead.

That may not be true in this world,

but very true inside my head.

The little boy is always saying things he should not know,

he is far too much like you,

gaining knowledge everywhere he goes.

I do not know the reason, I cannot see why,

but it is in his genes and you are known far and wide.

I am scared for his future,

far beyond his dreams,

I don't want him to fulfill your doomed legacy.

I treasure him with my heart, as I do treasure you.

But I want him to be happy, and not splattered blood like you.

All I have to offer is one lingering order

"Watch son", this is your father's suicide,

please don't end up the second one.


	3. Lestrade

**Led Astray**

Who is this coming here to tell me it's all lies?

I know exactly what they were,

but truth I cannot despise.

I knew it all along,

what he said was true.

For some reason I lost myself and selfishly gave up too.

There is no room for tears, though he was a helping hand.

I must move on and continue, while the doctor is knotted again.

His cane is no longer dusty and his eyes are full of tears,

but with the little boy he's got, he tries to put off his fears.

I do not try to fake it, without his brains I am not strong,

people continue to kill, but now nobody detects who they are.

I am fearful for the city, yes and even the country, but who am I most fearful for?

The doctor and his small buddy.

This is not what was meant to be, the brain falling to his death,

but what am I to do- my job came before my head?

The man, the brain, the detective...

the man, the sidekick, the doctor...

how can one repay them,

when his own ideals did falter?


	4. Irene

**I Run and Later**

You were the man of my dreams, but I hid it with ease.

I came to you complete, and left succumbing to defeat.

I wanted you to see and come to rescue me,

that's what you did indeed.

You left in a timely manner and with you I chose not to banter,

nothing in this life did make me happier than not being your dominatrix.

Smiling in the moment, loving the short time together, you left me in a mix,

but truly in a manner.

I heard it through the grapevine, after the deed was done

little did you know, a new life by you had begun.

To know that you were dead, and look into his eyes.

To see the bloody pupils, reminder of yours and mine.

I wanted to kill him day after day, to let him be with you,

but I knew homicide was bad, and fell back into the latter.

Watson is not a great man, or extraordinary in the least,

but if I knew one thing, he'd keep the boy at peace.

I gave up our child to the man who knew you best,

and with an ease beyond my age, I will now fall into rest.

Maybe I will see you? Maybe I will not.

Hell is where I am going, where you are I know not.

I am going to cut my wrists and sleep under my blood,

I hope you greet my when I am dead,

I hope you have not moved on.


	5. Moriarty

**More Tea, please.**

Hm, I guess you are dead.

Not as great as they thought you were, eh? Well, I am sure I am still going to kill your friends.

I never went for the simple minds, but I guess John will do.

Did you know he is the father of the boy who belongs to you?

I am going to kill the boy, personally by my own hand,

but only when he is competent

and completely understands.

His new father will be long gone, and I'll raise him to be like me.

Then I will draw out his long and handsome screams.

Maybe I'll then indulge in his blood mixed in my tea?

I hope your death was a fake, so you see it when your son dies.

I hope you remember my laughter and the sparkle in my demonic eyes.

I love to play these games, dear.

I hope you like them too!

I want you to know that your fall has come and gone,

but a real tragic death,

I.O.U.


	6. Molly

**Morbid Molly**

I loved you when you didn't see

and for you I knew it could not be

you used me and I could see

into your dying heart

I wanted you to understand

I am not him

I am not a man

but without you I can't understand

why death seems to evade me

I tried to kill myself after that day,

unable to even walk that way,

but death said no even when I prayed

for death to let me under.

I now have given up on suicide

but still I cannot dream of pride

knowing your legacy and body have died

but there is a positive catch.

John has been ever so kind,

to let me in and remain blind

to all the hate and be the kind

to comfort and not complete.

I am glad he has your boy,

he does not see him as a toy,

and not as an attracting ploy,

but only as your son, and only as his own.

He is a great father,

you would have been as well,

and the boy is so wonderful,

but I stay away as well.

I used to see them often,

but the little one smells death,

I do not want him knowing of corpses

before he knows of life.

I continue to dream of you daily as I pass

the lab is full of memories and days and nights that passed.

I have only one thing at home to keep your legacy alive...

upon my wall is a riding crop,

split at the ends by the body you beat after it had died.


End file.
